Professor Voldie
by Spirit of the M Keyboard
Summary: AU What if Dumbledore actually really did make Voldemort a professor? I don't own HP. Rated General for a little bit of everything. :
1. Chapter 1

A/n: Hello, and welcome to my first Harry Potter fic. AUs, or alternate realitys as well.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter anything.

* * *

Professor Voldie

* * *

"I would like a job here, Dumbledore."

Albus's eyes searched the others'. There was coldness and emptiness in them, and although it was aganist his better judgement, Dumbledore would soon predict that there would be a war, a war in which good and evil would clash soon in an epic place in history.

"The thing is, Tom, is that I am afraid that you will pass on something that I do not wish to younger students."

The two men stared, one open, the other a mystery. "Surely I will not 'pass' anything on without your all-knowing presence in Hogwarts."

"True, but I do not need trouble."

"Then you doubt that I want the job?"

"No, there is, in fact, no doubt that you want it." Dumbledore took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes wearily, showing his old age. "Okay. . . okay. . . but I will be keeping a close watch on you, Tom."

Triumph gleamed into the other's eyes; he ducked his head into a low bow quickly and said, "You're gracious, Headmaster. I shall not forget this," he said kindly, but when he turned his face was a evil mask.

* * *

Ten Years Later...

* * *

Harry Potter was eleven and a quarter, starting his first year at Hogwarts, a quiet, slender boy who had a penchant for trouble. Trouble didn't come looking for him, but it usually found him.

Orphaned, he been brought up by the Dursleys, a motley group whom he took nothing from. His parents had been killed by an unknown, evil force, of who the murderer was remained a mystery. He didn't care, though. A lot of his life remained a mystery.

Gryffindor accepted him, along with his soon to-be new friends Ron and Hermione, in its lavish House surroundings. He had never seen such a thing. "I definitely could get used to this place," he said softly.

Defense of the Dark Arts, though he didn't know what _that_ could be, was written on his schedule paper that had been mailed with his entrance letter. It was next day, along with Potions and Charms.

"It's all Sanskrit to me," he yawned as he tumbled backwards in his four-poster and fell dead asleep. Obviously unconcerned.

* * *

However, he did have cause because at that moment Lord Voldemort, the murderer, was now the Defense of the Dark Arts. He had shown this position as a semi-mockery of Dumbledore well-known importance of the subject. It would go in books, he dreamed, that DUmbledore would be thwarted by his blind stupidity.

The curse to kill Harry had failed, of course, but no one knew that. There was no scar, no mark on the young boy's forehead, all the details held was that Lily had been killed and James had been killed. That was it.

Only he and his Death Eaters knew the truth, one of them who was here at this very moment, Severus Snape. He, loyal friend, would surely keep his tongue quiet.

Severus was just as vindictive, and clever as he, though. He would have to keep an eye on Snape if he was to keep him in line.

Voldemort put his hands together tip to tip.

"Harry Potter..."

* * *

A/n: Good idea? Bad? Too weird? I'll just end it...

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Spirit: Well, it's been a long time! So long that I had to read this over again...to remember what I was thinking...Ah ha! Well it is true that Voldie did apply in 1970 (supposedly) but he has been in so much evil that Albus doesn't know. (Gee, how come you stay so young, Tom?) I mean I love Albus but he is a dummy. Ha ha. So, he has been a teacher for ever 20 years and Albus doesn't know that he is evil. The end.

Last time, Harry is enrolled in Hogwarts and is an innocent, unknowing little boy who doesn't know his Dark Arts teacher is the one who killed his parents.

* * *

**Chapter Two**

* * *

Professor Riddle watched as a swirly cloud of liquid in a basin showed him a picture of two young, barely past their teens _humans _fell. He had long since differientated himself from "human" ever since he became immortal. 

That day when he fulfilled the prophecy..._one way or another._

Now, all to do was left...get himself an army...

"You called, Master?"

Severus Snape kept his hiss low, for fear of being overheard by eavesdroppers. Professor Riddle smiled his ghastly smile. "...Always looking out for yourself, eh, Snape?"

Snape forced an apologetic grimace. "My apologies, O Dark Lord. I do not in shame of being your ever humble servant, but because the time is not yet come."

"You are right. But soon..." His eyes flashed red as they looked on the surface of the Pensieve, which showed a baby boy bawling his eyes out. "_Soon_..."

Meanwhile, Harry was getting his stuff together for his first day. It was all such a strange place that he felt like another dimension. Or an alien. Or maybe they were.

Spellbook, cauldron, wand, supplies, why didn't he bring a bookbag? Oh, that's right...it'd would be weird.

Crash! His foot got caught in a stone and he fell. He wasn't hurt but was embarrassed. Gee, if they know magic, you would at least think they'd make these floors linoleum! At least they'd be smooth, not stupid stones.

He finally made it in one piece to his first class. He sat right to a girl with fat brown hair that looked like a squirrel's tail. Her hair did, not her. "Hi! You're new! I'm Hermione! Nice to meet you!"

"Uh..."

The girl stuck out her hand. Harry looked at it as if it were a slimy snake. He learned not to take anything for what it seemed.

"Pay attention!" said the teacher, McGonagall. She looked like she read the Bossy Handbook from front to back. Actaully the older version of Hermione, Harry thought. "Now split up into pairs and let's see what you can do!"

Scared, the class did so. Uncertain, Harry just copied what the others did so not to seem dumb.

That went for his other lessons, too. At least he wasn't the only one going around with his mouth hanging open gawking at everything that came out of the wand. Maybe he'd make friends with the people that did.

Not people, he thought. Witches. And wizards.

"Hey, you're Harry? The famous Potter?" said a boy with a group, smiling in a friendly way, but with the speculative look. He nodded that yes he was. "Boy, you're quiet, eh? My's name's Fred. And this is George, AND he's Ron."

The other two made faces at the third, which Harry thought was juvenile.

"Nice to meet you," he said in automatic politeness. "You're the only one who's talked to me."

They looked at each other, cleary at a loss what to say. But what could they say? Oh yeah, heard your parents died. That's a bum-mer.

"Weren't you at my Tranfiguration class?" said Ron, who looked strange aganist the other classmates, with his red hair.

"Yeah."

"Well, then someone talked to you!"

"That nosy busybody," said Fred.

"She's good, so you better watch out - she'll put a hex on you!"

"Ha! I can handle a woman." They went to their Defense of the Dark Arts class together. Harry felt a bit happier...until he entered the room.

The room was pitch black, nearly. It was like entering a haunted house. Actually Hary had once been made to go by his mean cousin, Dudley, and been scared for months after. Traumatized, he wandered with the rest.

"Good evening."

It was a voice that hissed, yet had a weird lilt like a unusual accent. Hair standing up on his neck, Harry turned and sat at a desk he managed to find.

A tall man, thin beyond reality, smiled at them in a way that did not reach his eyes, which were slitted. Harry gasped, and he wasn't the only one. Most of the girls, though.

"If you're scared by little old me, you haven't much of a chance surviving," said the teacher, still smiling weirdly. "_I'm_ Professor Riddle."

Harry felt sick.

"You think that being a wizard or a witch is an easy life, perhaps?" Professor Riddle said gently. "Alas, in our time there is danger. Perhaps your parents have told you to keep away from strangers?" He leered at them, showing pointy teeth. He looked like a vampire.

Everybody looked at Harry, who was the only one with none.

"Oh yes, the very famous one." Riddl'es smile grew. "No parents, eh? Such a shame." He stared directly into his eyes.

Something like a headache was bubbling inside Harry's head. _Please don't throw up, please don't throw up..._

"Well, we've all heard the story, quite lucky, eh? You were spared during the Dark Ages, only a baby. Again, very incredible." The teacher nodded.

Embarrassed, he looked at his hands on the table.

"Anyway, let's push on to the first lesson, shall we?"

They spilt up into partners again, Harry having no one else, was with Ron. He felt silly for being so ill earlier. It was probably nothing...

But why did he have to announce that in front of the whole class? It was so mortifying...

"I shall teach you a very powerful shield charm," said Professor Riddle. "This one conjures up a real life shield. Like such."

He waved his wand, and a green one appeared, thick and sturdy looking.

"Now you all give it a go."

The class performed the incantation, and Riddle silently whispered another. He knew that such a stupid looking class would never be able. Without a bit of help...

"Wow! I did it!"

Soon everyone was gasping in awe and delight as their shiny shields, their brilliance lighting up the dark room easily, appeared.

"Good! Excellent!" Professor Riddle praised.What a bunch of soft-headed nitwits, he thought. He smiled. "Now, these will protect aganist the most powerful charms. Practice makes perfect, my young ones..."

The class stared excitedly at one another. All day long, like he, Harry, had been said to : "You can't even perform _this_?" and "Now let's start with the basics..." Now, Professor Riddle, such a good teacher he was, got them to get it right on the first try!

Harry, however knew better.

"I don't know about that Professor Riddle," he said to Ron, as they returned to their dorms. "He seems so ...whacked out. Maybe he's on drugs or something."

"Drugs? What're those?" said Ron.

"Ah..." Harry pulled on his pajamas. "Kind of like having a Confuddled Charm on you, really. He's so ...scary-looking." He shuddered.

"Oh." Ron pulled on his own. " 'Whacked out.' He's not confused! He really seems like he knows his stuff. Say...I'm really sorry about your parents." he looked completely sympathetic.

"Oh." Harry thought of a way to say that he didn't want sympathy. "I don't like to talk about it."

"All right! Then it's done! Then we won't." They said good night, and Harry could see the other boys still practicing feverishly._ I guess I should,_ he thought, but fell exhaustedly asleep.

Tommorow then.

* * *

Spirit: To be continued...So, you can see that I don't like Hermione very much...ah-heh. And FYI I haven't read the book in a bit, my dad confiscated them. So mean...So it might not be perfect. Heh! 


End file.
